


lilacs out of the dead land

by luca



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 05:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10735224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luca/pseuds/luca
Summary: Prompt #17 - Jinwoo is a gorgeous young model with a shy offstage demeanour and the handsome CEO of his modelling agency, Seunghoon, finds him very interesting.





	lilacs out of the dead land

In the morning, everything is always a little too loud. Beneath concrete towers and fading street lights, the city awakes all at once. It does not know slow, it does not have time to be still. Seunghoon watches the people below scuttle like ants from his office. He presses his fingers against the cool glass and thinks, if he looks far enough, he can see the mountains, untouched. 

“You’re getting old, Seunghoon.” 

He tears himself away from a jungle of grey walls and road rivers that sprawl within it like blackening veins. Seungyoon stares back at him, his mouth twisted into a grimace and a clipboard to his chest. 

“You’re not that much younger than me,” he replies, settling down in his chair. 

“You’re nearly forty.” 

“I’m thirty two!”

“You should find someone and settle down.”

Seunghoon laughs, leaning forward. “Are you my mother?”

“No,” Seungyoon says. “But as your assistant and best friend I think–”

“You think? I think I’m doing fine, don’t you?” he says, a little colder than he means to because he’s only thirty two, already the executive of a burgeoning agency and he is doing more than fine. An apartment in the heart of Seoul, a couple cars here and there and he doesn’t need anybody right now. Seungyoon scowls at him still, his head held high.

“You’re lonely,” he says and when Seunghoon opens his mouth ready to retort, holds up a hand to silence him. “Don’t lie. All you do is work and stare and work and stare and maybe, on good days, sleep.”

Seunghoon swallows. He is not lonely, he is not, but he pictures the empty apartment he comes home to at night and his chest tightens with a desire he does not want. “I do more than that,” he insists but the words feel heavy in his mouth and Seungyoon’s gaze pierces through him as if he sees everything.

“You don’t have to settle down but you should think about it. I know some people who I think you’ll get along with.”

Seunghoon’s lips curls into a scowl and suddenly, Seungyoon’s nose seems too big for his face. “Shouldn’t you be worrying about finding someone yourself before you worry about others?” he snips and then, catching sight of Seungyoon’s open collar, the dark spot pressed just there beneath his ear, breaks out into a smirk with too much teeth. “Unless you already have someone and you haven’t told me?”

“What?” Seungyoon blanches immediately, his shoulders falling. He follows Seunghoon’s gaze to his neck and in a flurry of hands, buttons up his collar with lightning speed. “No,” he says and, in a way Seunghoon thought impossible, turns even paler. “Of course not.”

“Oh, then we’re the same,” Seunghoon replies. He waves his hand in the air, as if shooing away a fly. “Now, please get me a copy of our latest contract.” 

“This isn’t over,” Seungyoon hisses, though it lacks all its bite, and marches out the door with stomping steps. Seunghoon laughs at his retreating back, the way it slouches completely. It is so easy to forget how young Seungyoon is with all the weight he carries on his shoulders. 

When the door slams shut, Seunghoon spins around in his chair to stare back at his kingdom of ashen skies and iron walls. The people continue to bustle their way through, the mountains remain far off.

  
  


As the sun settles down into the river, the streets brighten with speeding cars and food carts, the glow from stores that never close. Seunghoon leans back in his chair, staring at a clock that says you have been here too long and rubs away the sleep from his eyes. Numbers and signatures flicker in pinpricks of light and he yawns into the palm of his hands, knowing that today is over and tomorrow will come too soon. He packs up his briefcase and pulls down the blinds.

Only Seungyoon is still at his desk when Seunghoon comes out of his office. His eyes are glued to his laptop and colours dance in their reflection as he click, click, clicks to a steady rhythm. Seunghoon looms over behind him, wanting to know what it is that ties him here so late, and finds his heart stuck in his throat when he catches sight of the screen. A pretty model with pretty eyes that consume half his face stares back at him and he is lost in it all. “Who’s that?” he manages to ask through a mouth too dry.

“Hm? Oh, Jinwoo! He’s one of our newer models but he’s really in demand right now,” Seungyoon replies with a proud smile, glancing over his shoulder at him. He clicks through a couple more photos and though Seunghoon has seen plenty of beautiful people, he has never seen a beautiful like this. The light flashes off him like sun and he is soft all over. 

Seunghoon pushes Seungyoon’s hand away from the mouse and flicks through the rest. “In demand?”

“Yes! I’ve already gotten him a couple commercials and an endorsement for a fashion label. They really like his look. It’s very clean.” Clean. Seunghoon looks at this boy with a face like fresh snow and thinks yes, clean suits him perfectly. “Can you believe? That face from Imjado.” 

“An island?” Seunhoon breathes out. He reaches the end of the folder, realising he has clicked through an odd forty photos. “How is he here then?”

“He was in Seoul for a trip or something. I scouted him on the street myself.”

“Ah,” Seunghoon says. “No wonder why you look so smug.”

Seungyoon’s smile grows wider. “He’s a really great kid, really kind and refreshing. You should talk to him sometime. I’m always saying you should get to know your models, it’ll really help you know what offers suit them and–”

“I think I will,” Seunghoon agrees. He does not meet with his models. He does not have time, this is not what he does – but as he gives one last long look at the monitor, he thinks he can make an exception. He pats his assistant on the back, watching him with frightening glee as he splutters.

“What?” Seungyoon chokes, eyes wide as Seunghoon makes his way to the elevator.

“Schedule me a meeting with him. Tomorrow,” he says, stopping half-way. He turns to look back at Seungyoon, a smirk on his face. “Oh, and hurry on home. It’s late and I’m sure your lover boy is waiting for you.”

The elevator doors shut before the stapler hits him in the head.

  
  


Tic, tic, tic. Seunghoon watches the hands of the clock spin round and round, always forward and always a little too fast. A blaring honk roars outside the window, stretched long against the distance of seven, eight seconds. Someone is heckling. Two people now, and then three. The clock tics in spasms, unbothered.

“Um–” a voice starts and suddenly, Seunghoon is reminded that he is here in his office alone with a beautiful boy he fought hard to meet. His eyes flicker to him immediately as if drawn by force. “Am I getting fired, sir?” Jinwoo asks, hands fidgeting in his lap. He looks up through his lashes, gaze impossibly wide and searching. 

Seunghoon finds his mouth quirking up into a smile. He should correct him on the sir part but it sounds lovely on his tongue so he lets it lie there for now. “No, of course not. What made you think that?”

“It’s just you’ve never called me in before. Sir.” Jinwoo says. His gaze, Seunghoon notes regretfully, falls back to the floor.

“No, and that’s my mistake. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Uh… me?” he asks, pointing a finger at himself. “About what?”

“I want to get to know you. It’ll help us to find what kind of campaign best suits you.” This is a lie – the words stolen from Seungyoon himself – but only partly. Seunghoon cares nothing for campaigns but he does want to know this model from the islands who looks like the sea. 

Jinwoo hums, staring at the ceiling. “Oh, I guess so.”

“Good,” Seunghoon says, hopping out of his chair. “Let’s go somewhere. It’s too stuffy in here. Have you had dinner?”

“Dinner?” 

“Yes, dinner. You know, the meal. What you eat,” Seunghoon explains slowly, making motions with his hands. Jinwoo’s cheeks flush pink. 

“Uh, no I haven’t,” he says and then, as an afterthought, “I haven’t, sir.”

Seunghoon hides his grin behind his hands. “If we’re going to eat together, Seunghoon is fine,” he says, shucking on his coat. Jinwoo nods but his eyebrows remained creased and he follows Seunghoon with tentative steps.

“Where are we going? Sir?”

Seunghoon hums, tapping at his chin. “Oh, we’ll see. There’s a nice restaurant uptown, a bit pricey but…” He turns to Jinwoo suddenly, eyes alight and smile wide. “Don’t worry about paying now, we’ll just deduce it from your pay check,” he says and laughs as Jinwoo turns as white as the walls he tries to blend into.

  
  


Jinwoo melts immediately when Seunghoon leads him to a food cart in the middle of the street. He takes a look at the prices, nodding to himself, before breathing out a sigh. The air turns white around his mouth, flowing in wispy clouds, and Seunghoon laughs at him, handing him over a bag of fishcakes and corndogs. They end up sitting on a bench together, side by side. Jinwoo swings his legs back and forth, one hand stuffed into the pocket of his coat, and Seunghoon watches the people pass them by in waves. 

“You’re from Imjado?” He asks, staring at neon lights against cement walls. 

“Hm?” Jinwoo hums around a mouthful of fish. “Oh yes.”

“But Seungyoon said he scouted you in Seoul.”

Jinwoo swallows and leaves the rest of his food on the space between them. Seunghoon watches him tug at a loose thread on his sweater, licking his lips. “I came here to attend a dance academy. I wanted to be an idol,” he says, sounding small. He looks down at his scuffed shoes, pressing circles into the footpath. 

Oh, Seunghoon thinks. His throat feels tight. He turns to Jinwoo fully and sees the streetlight buried in his hair. “Me too,” he says in a rush. Me too, and suddenly, he feels like the boy he was ten years ago, young and carefree and naïve.

Jinwoo smiles into his scarf, shaking his head. “Seungyoon did say you like to lie to yourself,” he mutters.

“No, really! I was part of a dance crew in high school. I came here from Busan to be a dancer,” he insists and then, as if finally hearing everything, asks, “Seungyoon told you I was a liar?”

His question goes ignored. “Can you show me then?” Jinwoo asks. 

Opening his mouth to retort back, Seunghoon shuts it with a click almost instantly. Jinwoo looks at him with all the anticipation in the world and he finds he can’t refuse him at all. Dangerous, he thinks but he sighs anyway, popping his shoulders into place, arms moving with a fluidity almost foreign but always instinctual. Jinwoo’s face brightens immediately and the florescent lights from the stores around them seem to dull in comparison. 

“You’re good,” he laughs into his hand and then, thinking about it, continues almost sadly. “But you don’t dance anymore. You own a modelling agency.”

Seunghoon’s stare falls back onto the sea of people in front of them and buildings with a thousand eyes. He doesn’t – he doesn’t want to talk about this, he doesn’t want to remember. “Some things don’t work out according to plan,” he says simply. 

Nodding his head, Jinwoo hums as if he understands (and perhaps he does, he who came from an island to end up in concrete wastelands). “No,” he says. “But that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed. This is good too. I like being a model. I’ve met a lot of good people and I feel happy with where I am. Don’t you?”

Seunghoon throws his head back to look at the stars, then at this boy with soft smiles who dreams like him. They seem to coalesce into something strange and wonderful and Seunghoon finds, unbearably, that he wants it all. “Yes,” he says. 

A hesitant, comforting hand places itself against Seunghoon’s leg. “Maybe in another life, we’ll be able to sing and dance,” Jinwoo suggests. 

Seunghoon smiles and looks back down at this face which glows in a sincerity that drowns out the streetlights. He rests his hand on top of Jinwoo’s own. It feels warm. “Maybe,” he agrees. 

The city trails on around him but Seunghoon’s eyes are on the stars.

  
  


“Jinwoo said you took him to dinner.”

Seunghoon looks up from his stack of papers to see Seungyoon staring him down from the doorway. His shirt is buttoned up all the way today, the collar neatly pressed and Seunghoon can’t help but smirk at him, eyes alight. In return, Seungyoon face sets hard like stone like it always is when he has too much to say about things that mean nothing. Seunghoon’s grin drops.

“You guys are close,” he murmurs, glaring back down to stare holes into contracts that all look the same and models just as dull. They stare back at him, lifeless and cold and all alike and he wonders how Jinwoo had done it, how he had managed to look so alive on paper, as if the earth lived in him. “And yes, I did. Is that a problem?”

“It is actually,” Seungyoon says. He stalks up to the desk, arms crossed over his chest. Like this, he looks so much more imposing, the leader he was born to be. “He’s your employee.”

“Is it illegal?”

“No but it’s unprofessional.” 

Seunghoon rolls his eyes, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand. “You told me to get to know him.”

“Yeah, I meant have a professional meeting with him. Not take him out to a food cart and watch the stars!” Seungyoon spits back and Seunghoon’s gaze snaps up, narrowed and accusing. 

“He told you that? How close are you two?” he asks because it sounds like they are very, very close and he wonders, does Seungyoon also know that Jinwoo sees the stage when he sleeps and his island even clearer? Seunghoon scowls at the thought, feeling half-sick for reasons he half-understands. Seungyoon doesn’t notice. 

“He’s so young!”

“It says he’s twenty four in his profile,” Seunghoon murmurs into his palms. 

“Yeah, and you’re thirty two!”

“So we’re both adults then,” he replies. “Are you worried for me or are you worried for him?”

Seungyoon opens his mouth and closes it with a click, looking very much like a gaping fish. Then finally, after scanning the room as if his words could be found in the corners of the ceiling or the woodgrain of a desk, says, “Both.”

“What? You think he’s doing this to get ahead?”

Seungyoon blanches, sticking out his tongue. “No, of course not! Jinwoo’s not like that, he works hard and he’s so – he’s so sincere,” he says. 

“Then?”

“I’m just–” Seungyoon begins, swallowing, and the rest of his words come tumbling out like a river unchained. “I’m worried for you because I think you’re going too fast and I’m worried for him because he might feel pressured.”

Seunghoon scoffs. “Too fast? You’re the one who said I should find someone! I’m not asking him to marry me, I just like being with him,” he shoots back. He narrows his eyes accusingly. “And what do you mean, he might feel pressured?”

Seungyoon’s face hardens again like stone, mouth pursed into a fine line. “I mean, you’re his boss and he’s your employee,” he says. He taps a finger against the side of his head before going back to his own desk. “Think about it.”

“Okay, Mother,” Seunghoon retorts back under his breath, even though he does think about it for the rest of the day. 

(And at night too as he sleeps to the thoughts of a stage shared with someone like him and wakes to the excitement of it all.)

  
  


There is something magic about this. Beneath florescent lights and backgrounds bleached white, Jinwoo comes alive. He moves to the rhythm of click click click and bathes in flashes too bright. Even then, he is captivating, effortless and at ease. There is a calmness in his features but a sharpness in his gaze and the cameras live for him. Seunghoon can’t look away. 

It ends when the director calls for a break. Suddenly, like flicking a switch, Jinwoo reverts to his soft smiles and gentle looks. He hunches in his shoulders, bowing to any who look his way, and hides his mouth behind his hand. Seunghoon feels as if he has been plunged into a pool of water, wretched violently from something beyond him. He shakes his head and walks towards Jinwoo. The staff part like the sea. 

“Hey,” he calls out. Jinwoo’s head perks up towards him immediately and he runs over with small, hurried steps. 

“Boss!” he says, breathless and nervous, and this is not the same person from moments before. Alluring all the same but this Jinwoo wears his passions on his face and his heart on his sleeve. Seunghoon finds, helplessly, that he likes this one more, raw and earnest as he is. 

“You’re very good,” he says, smiling down at him. He catches some people watching them from the corner of his eye. 

“Thank you,” Jinwoo replies, cheeks pink. His eyes dart around to the side before staring at the space right below Seunghoon’s nose. “Um, is something wrong?”

Seunghoon laughs. “You know, there doesn’t have to be a problem for me to see you. I just wanted to take you out for lunch.”

“Lunch? With me?” Jinwoo says, a finger pointed to his chest, as if he can hardly believe it. 

“Who else?” Seunghoon says assuredly before pausing. Seungyoon’s words ring in his head and he licks his lips, feeling flustered. “I’m not going to fire you or anything like that if you say no. Honestly. We can pretend this never happened and I won’t hassle you anymore. I won’t do anything you don’t want. I promise,” he blurts out in a rush. He wipes his hands against his pants, his fingers against his brow. He feels so stupid, so incredibly stupid and there are people still watching and god, Jinwoo can say no, he can say no and that’s fine but that doesn’t mean Seunghoon won’t feel hurt over it or beat Seungyoon up for starting this mess or – 

“It’s not a hassle,” Jinwoo’s voice breaks through. He gazes up at him looking braver than before. “I want to go with you,” he continues and then, catching sight of Seunghoon’s gaping mouth, adds with a small smile, “Seunghoon.”

Seunghoon feels like dancing again.

  
  


After lunch, Seunghoon springs back into the office. There are still contracts he must sort out and meetings he must attend but the sunlight seeps past them in beams, lighting up the city in molten gold and skies of rose. 

“You’re happy,” Seungyoon’s voice calls after him.

Seunghoon pokes his head back out the door, a smirk plastered on his face. “I’m rich and handsome, is it a surprise?”

Seungyoon rolls his eyes, fingers clicking against the keyboard. “You’re happier,” he amends.

Seunghoon hums. He looks out the window and sees the snow-capped mountains closer than before. “Yes, I am,” he agrees.

  
  


All eyes are on Seunghoon when he bursts through the door to the recording of Jinwoo’s latest commercial. Seungyoon’s nagging still rings in his ear, a constant drone of ‘you can’t take a break whenever you want’, but it dies as soon as he catches sight of Jinwoo packing up. He sprints to him in leaps and bounds before bending over with his hands on his knees.

“Lunch?” He says breathlessly, looking up at him through his lashes. His shirt sticks to his back and he wipes at his neck despite the chill of winter, praying that Jinwoo won’t mind. 

Jinwoo smile is uncertain, quivering at the corners. His gaze flickers to the side where a group of staff huddle and murmur, watching them like hungered wolves. Seunghoon catches it. “I’m not–” he begins, sucking in his cheek. He looks back at Seunghoon, puffing and sheening in sweat, and smiles more certain than before. “Sure.” 

Seunghoon’s grin feels too big for his face. “Great!” he says. His eyes flicker over to the staff still gossiping amongst themselves. “Wait for me outside please. I just need to do something.”

Jinwoo nods and Seunghoon watches his retreating back blending into the fading light, before storming towards the group clustered in the corner. They continue in hushed whispers but shut up as soon as they see him coming. His shadow looms over them, dangerous.

“I don’t like people whose mouths are bigger than their minds,” he says simply, staring down at them under his nose. They nod, mouths agape, and disperse like ants when he flicks a hand in the air and spins on his heels. 

Jinwoo is waiting for him when he strolls outside, hands buried into the hem of his sweater. He flicks his head towards the footpath and they fall into a steady rhythm side by side, a tap tap tap of stone cobbled steps amongst an air too still. The cars stream past them, the people bustle through. The silence is suffocating. 

“Just so you know, I’m not going to give you any special treatment,” Seunghoon says when he can no longer stand it. Jinwoo head spins towards him with a speed that makes him worry it might fall off. 

“I wasn’t expecting any!” he shouts back, alarmed. Seunghoon smiles. 

“So then you shouldn’t worry about what other people think. You should believe in your own merit.” 

Jinwoo stops in the middle of the path way, staring up at him with all the intensity in the world. He scrunches up his eyebrows, puffs up his cheeks and stays like that as if on pause and Seunghoon would think it cute if they weren’t in the middle on the street with people pushing past them.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Jinwoo huffs and the clouds come from him as if they were born from him. “I’m trying to speak in my mind. Can’t you hear me? Aren’t you a mind reader?” he says, completely serious. For a second Seunghoon only stares back as if he had spoken in another language. His mind mulls over the words over and over again before finally clicking into place. He feels his shoulders shake, the laughter bubbling out of him. Jinwoo looks on, offended. 

“I’m just incredibly insightful,” he says once his cheeks have stopped hurting. He wipes at his eye and tugs Jinwoo along and he follows, dragging his feet.

“The opposite of Minho,” he mumbles, bottom lip sticking out. 

It is Seunghoon who stops this time but Jinwoo walks on. “Minho?” 

“Hm? Minho? He’s one of your models. He’s so popular! Song Minho? Mino?” 

Jinwoo repeats his name over and over as if Seunghoon will remember if he says it enough. But Seunghoon doesn’t know a Song Minho or Minho or Mino, besides from the fact that he does not like him at all. “I don’t recall.” He grits his teeth, feeling his stomach spin and swirl. He feels foolish, somehow, in a way that makes him sick.

“Huh? Really?” Jinwoo continues, oblivious. “But he’s so handsome and he’s honestly one of the top models in the agency and probably the industry! I’m sure you’ve seen him before.”

Seunghoon stares at his feet. “Handsome, huh?” He thinks, if he looks hard enough, he can see his reflection in the black shine of his shoes. He glares at it, at this strange mixture of a face not his. 

“I started modelling because of him. I wasn’t sure when Seungyoon asked me but then he showed me Minho’s work and I thought, wow, so this is a type of art too.”

“Great. Great. That’s – that’s really interesting.” Jinwoo throws him a small smile that does nothing to help the sinking feeling in his stomach, before catching sight of something behind him. His entire face lights up in beams and he runs past Seunghoon like wind. “Where are you going?”

Jinwoo stands in front of an ancient arcade machine, scratched and battered down. It should be too old to work but he pushes in a couple coins and the screen lights up in pictures incredibly familiar, a tune that comes from the past. “I’m really great. Wanna play?” 

Seunghoon walks over, gliding his fingers over the buttons and the joystick, and thinks of home, of the boy who wanted to dance. He doesn’t feel so sick anymore. 

“I’m warning you, I used to be great,” he says. 

Jinwoo selects his character, throwing him a glance, dangerous and unnerving all at once. “And I’m warning you, I’m still great.”

And this is true, Seunghoon finds, when they play two games and tie up even. He is great but Seunghoon is better and his heart thrums in his chest when he catches sight of Jinwoo’s life bar nearly empty in the final match. His fingers furiously tap at the buttons like a memory from long ago and he crams the joy stick to one side, tucking Jinwoo into the corner. 

An elbow suddenly jabs him harshly to the side, right below his ribs and Seunghoon howls, leaping back. He catches sight of his character motionless on the ground and he rushes back to the controls with his limbs flailing. It’s still too late. Jinwoo pounds his fist in the air, his cheers almost deafening. The screen gleams back at Seunghoon mockingly. 

“You cheated!” he snarls, a finger digging into Jinwoo’s side in return. Jinwoo squirms but doesn’t try to stop him. 

“I didn’t cheat!” he protests.

“You pushed me!”

“I didn’t really push you! My arm jerks sometimes and I just knocked you a little bit,” Jinwoo says, his head held high. Seunghoon doesn’t believe him for a second. 

“You _pushed_ me. You liar!”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t!”

Seunghoon scoffs, hardly believing it. The _nerve_ of this guy. “Because it’s obvious you can’t do that!”

“If you didn’t want me to push you, you should have made the rules clear from the start,” Jinwoo huffs. “You know, you shouldn’t make excuses. It’s not very becoming,” he adds haughtily, arms crossed over his chest. He sounds so completely ridiculous and Seunghoon finds himself laughing despite it all. His cheeks feel hot and he rubs at them with frozen fingers.

“You’re a brat,” he says and means nothing of it. Jinwoo smiles at him knowingly with a softness that makes him feel warm. 

“At least I’m not a loser,” he replies, pushing in a couple more coins and the screen starts up again. “But don’t worry. I’ll give you another shot. You’re welcome.”

“You’re on,” Seunghoon says, ignoring the vibration in his pocket. Whatever it is, it can wait. "And no pushing this time."

"Sure," Jinwoo grins. "No pushing." 

They play until the sun sets and their fingers can hardly move from the cold and if Seunghoon gets kicked a couple times ("that's not pushing!"), he finds he can hardly mind.

  
  


“I want you to fire Song Minho.”

Seungyoon’s head shoots up like a bullet from where it had been glued to the monitor. “What?” he blurts, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. 

Seunghoon, looming over him, shoves a ripped page from a magazine into his face, a finger pointed at that impossibly chiselled jaw. “Fire this guy!”

Seungyoon peeks at the page momentarily, before glaring back up, as alight and red as flames. “I’m not firing him! He’s the last person I would fire!” 

“Why?” Seunghoon spits back, just as fierce. He scans him up and down wearily and Seungyoon splutters, cheeks tinged red.

“Because – because!” he says, hands flailing. “Because you – you can’t fire someone for no reason!”

“There’s a reason,” Seunghoon replies, crossing his arms over his chest. He sticks his chin in the air, bottom lip jutting out. “I don’t like him.”

“Have you met him?”

“No, but I know enough.”

The chair tumbles back to the floor with an audible clack as Seungyoon leaps from it. He pushes Seunghoon back against the desk, fingers twisted into the material of his shirt with a strength that belies him. “Then you’ll know he’s one of our most popular models and we can’t fire him, you absolute moron,” he hisses, his breath scorching hot and mouth twisted into a snarl. Even like this, with Seunghoon still looking down at him, Seungyoon feels incredibly imposing, a giant with the face of soft curves. Seunghoon coughs, the collar tight around his neck

“You can’t call me that, I’m your boss!”

“Then start acting like it and use your brain!” Seungyoon releases him with a final push and watches him uselessly iron out the creases in his shirt with practiced hands. Stepping back, he sighs and rubs at his temples. “What’s the real reason?”

“What do you mean? I just don’t like him!” Seunghoon says but Seungyoon glares at him with all the ferocity he can muster and he shuts his mouth again with a click.

“I’m not an idiot. I’ve known you for years. You don’t fire people just like that. So, what’s the real reason?”

Seunghoon hesitates, looking around, before he blurts it out in a rapid stream. “Jinwoo’s dating him and his stupidly handsome face and broad–”

“He’s not dating Minho,” Seungyoon cuts in. His voice is quieter now, less erratic, and his stare softens into something calmer, more dangerous. He picks up his chair, falling back into it, and relief falls over him in waves. A huge smile with too much teeth splits across his face and Seunghoon feels like he’ll be swallowed whole. 

“How do you know?”

“I just know. Trust me,” he says. He rummages through the papers on his desk before handing one over to Seunghoon. Jinwoo’s schedule for the week glares enticingly back at him in bold. “Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Seunghoon snatches it from him, waving it in the air, before stomping away to his office. “I will,” he shouts back. “And prove you wrong!” Bright laughter echoes after him but he ignores it, wondering if Jinwoo has a monthly schedule and whether Seungyoon could get him that too.

  
  


Jinwoo’s next photoshoot is a day later with another model whose name Seunghoon hadn’t bothered to read. This time when he struts in, less people gape at him, partly because rumours of Seunghoon’s temper travels around quickly, partly because it’s no secret now, the package deal of him and Jinwoo and Jinwoo and him. The occasional people still whisper in the corners but he shoots them an icy glare and their mouths click shut.

He stops when he sees a familiar face beneath the lights. 

“Song Minho?” he breathes out. It comes out almost a whisper but a head turns anyway and Seunghoon finds himself staring into a face he’d been cursing at just last night, sharp jawed and clean angled. 

“Yes sir,” the model replies.

Shit, Seunghoon thinks. Shit.

Song Minho stares at him with a nose twice as high as his, a face twice as sharp and though Seunghoon has always believed in his own charm, he also knows the world does not. He shakes his head and tells himself there is no reason to be nervous. He is the CEO of a rising company, a fashion icon and he has done things far worse than this. So, he walks up to Minho in a determined line, shoulders high and chin higher. 

Only, his voice betrays him.

“Are you with Jinwoo?” he blurts out suddenly. It comes out as a rush, too loud and too desperate but Seunghoon is desperate and he wants to know desperately (if he can be happy, if he can be liked). 

Minho stares back at him, face blank and mouth open. “With Jinwoo?” he asks.

Seunghoon swallows the lump stuck in his throat. “Yes,” he replies a little firmer than before and then, slowly and more assured, repeats, “Are you together with Jinwoo?”

Minho’s eyebrows scrunch up as if he doesn’t understand simple questions. He tilts his head, his gaze looking past him and over his shoulder before finally, “Er, yes, I am.”

Seunghoon doesn’t even have time to feel it hit him, a punch to the gut that leaves him breathless and half-wanting, as Jinwoo calls him from behind.

“Seunghoon!”

“Seunghoon?” Minho repeats, face twisted even more as he looks between him, and had he not known that his boyfriend had been spending time with his boss? 

(Seunghoon realises, in that moment, that kind people can be the cruellest people and that stars mean nothing.)

“You came!” Jinwoo continues with a face too bright for a liar and this hurts a lot more. “I’ve just finished. We can go to the arcade again if you want, or have dinner or – or whatever.”

Seunghoon wipes his hands on his trousers, then shoves them into his pocket. He looks over between them thinking that, if compatibility was measured in how good people looked together, then these two could be soulmates. He shakes his too heavy head and it throbs in tics. “Ah, no, sorry. I’m busy tonight. I just wanted to check up on what’s happening,” he says.

Jinwoo’s face sinks slightly but he nods and smiles still. “Right. Okay. Well, um, see you tomorrow?” he says and there is a hope in his eyes that makes Seunghoon yearn for him and resent him all at once. 

Seunghoon’s mouth is as tight as the vice in his throat and the fists in his pocket. “Sure, yeah. Maybe,” he says. He turns away before they can hurt him more, and walks back out, past a thousand watchful eyes, to a skyline more familiar.

  
  


When Seunghoon finally leaves his office, Jinwoo is there waiting for him. Seunghoon freezes. He looks so small, eyes downcast and feet tapping to the rhythm of the clock, clock, clock. Seunghoon swallows and yesterday comes to him in clarity. He feels sick all over again. 

“Jinwoo,” he calls despite himself and Jinwoo leaps up from the chair just outside his office, bright and shining as if he hadn’t waited hours for Seunghoon to finish work. He beams like the morning and Seunghoon chokes, wanting it all. 

“What – what are you doing here?”

“I was waiting for you,” he says and oh, Seunghoon remembers now, how Seungyoon had told him someone was outside looking for him before he left. That idiot, Seunghoon thinks. Jinwoo wasn’t just someone. 

“How long have you been waiting?” he asks. 

“Not that long,” Jinwoo replies as if nothing had happened and, for some reason, it is Seunghoon who feels guilty. “Have you finished?”

“Er, yeah. Yeah, what’s wrong? Why are you here?”

“You know, there doesn’t have to be a problem for me to see you,” he repeats with a grin and then, when Seunghoon only stares at him, says more seriously, “We can walk and talk.”

Seunghoon does not want to talk. He has nothing to say (except everything, except, why didn’t you tell me? except, I thought you liked me and I liked you so much and I still do, I like you so so much, you, who drew the mountains and anchored the stars and –) and he has no time to feel sad. Truly, he means to say no but Jinwoo looks up at him so expectantly that Seunghoon can do nothing but agree. “Sure,” he says reluctantly and Jinwoo grin comes back tenfold in a way that makes his stomach churn as he patters along behind him. 

They ride down the elevator together, speaking of nothing, and when the door pings open, Seunghoon almost runs towards the exit. He thrusts it open, feeling the chill hit him in a rush and – 

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. The snow falls just outside, soft and slow, catching in the glow of the streetlights. “I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“That’s alright,” Jinwoo says, appearing beside him. The corners of his mouth tug up slightly, warm and reassuring. “A little snow doesn’t hurt.”

“Right,” Seunghoon mutters. He shuffles onto the footpath and stares at his feet, the way the snow melts on the leather, and Jinwoo huddles along beside him. Beneath the gleam of a cold moon, they fall into a stable rhythm. Seunghoon focuses on this instead, on the clicking of his heels on the pavement and the numbness of his fingertips. He shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Did I – did I upset you yesterday?” Jinwoo asks suddenly and Seunghoon’s head snaps towards him like a whip.

“What? God, no. No, not at all. It’s me, I just –” he pauses, licking his lips. He looks up at the sky, seeing the clouds, and the ice melts against his cheek. His mouth moves before he can think twice. “Look, I’m just going to be honest with you. Let’s not see each other anymore, alright? At least, not for the time being.”

Jinwoo halts to a stop in the middle of the footpath. The snow gathers on him, catching in the black of his hair and the curl of his lashes, and it lingers there like it belongs. When he looks up at him, ice and moon set in his skin, Seunghoon’s chest thrums like it can’t contain itself. Something beyond this world stares back at him, bare and vulnerable.

“Did I do something wrong?” Jinwoo asks, looking very much like the first time they’d met. Seunghoon feels like there are stones living in his stomach, crushing him from the inside out. 

“Yes – no!” he flounders, rubbing at his temples. “No, you didn’t I just –” he sighs, and it comes out of him like steam. “You do things to me, okay? And I feel things I shouldn’t be feeling because you’re dating that Song Minho but I can’t help it. I think – I think I could still be great friends with you though, just – just not right now, I just need time. You understand?” he rambles, panting. He looks back down at Jinwoo, eyes scanning his face for anything, any sort of understanding or agreement or closure he can keep for himself, but Jinwoo only stares back at him, looking more confused and less hurt.

“I’m not dating Minho,” he says slowly, eyebrows scrunched.

“What?” Seunghoon blurts, shaking his head. “But he said he was with you.”

“With me?” Jinwoo says more to himself. He looks up at the sky, thinking, before his face lights up again. “Oh, yes he was! Yesterday, he was with me there at the photoshoot.”

What?

Oh.

Seunghoon’s mouth falls open, finally understanding, and he feels stupid somehow, losing sleep over something that never even existed in the first place. He thinks of time wasted, of opportunities gone and all the trouble he could have avoided. “Fuck, he’s an idiot,” he mutters under his breath. That dumb, handsome Song Minho. 

“And you’re the idiot who thought I was dating him,” Jinwoo laughs, eyes crinkled into crescent moons. 

Seunghoon shoots him a pointed look, but he can’t help the grin on his face, incredibly relieved as he is exhausted. “You’re very brave, saying that to your boss.”

“Are you threatening me?” Jinwoo asks, looking at once, shocked and disappointed and Seunghoon’s mouth falls open almost instantly. 

“No! What? No, it was just a joke!”

Jinwoo laughs. “I know, I know, I’m just teasing,” he says cheerily. Seunghoon breathes a sigh of relief.

“So, you’re not dating him? You’re not dating anyone?”

“Yes,” Jinwoo says and Seunghoon has never heard yes sound so liberating, has never loved the word more in his life. 

“Great,” he replies, meaning it all. His body sings and he soars with it, feeling as if he could dance. Suddenly, he doesn’t mind the snow or the cold or the grey arms of grey buildings that extend into grey skies. He bounds back down the street, a spring in his step, lighter than before. 

“And how can I date Minho? He’s with Seungyoon.”

Seunghoon freezes just as soon as he had started and turns around so fast his head spirals. “He’s dating Seungyoon. My Seungyoon? My personal assistant Seungyoon?” Jinwoo nods and everything begins to make sense. That mark on his neck, the way he was so insistent. Seunghoon isn’t sure whether he should laugh. 

“Yes, I thought he told you. Aren’t you and Seungyoon best friends?”

“Not after I’m done with him,” he growls. 

Jinwoo hums, turning seriously suddenly and Seunghoon focuses on him entirely now, on this boy who comes from the sea to call forth the snow. His hands are buried in his pockets but Seunghoon can see the way they fiddle and fidget in the material. “I thought – I thought you knew that I–” he begins, swallowing. He licks the corners of his mouth and looks back at Seunghoon with those eyes he has only seen in his photos. “I thought you knew I liked you.”

It comes out a rush, a jumble of sounds and for a moment that stretches too long, Seunghoon only stares. He must have heard that wrong. “You like me?” he asks, a finger pointed at his chest. Jinwoo’s face flushes red and the snow melts almost instantly when it hits its cheeks, running down in streams. He buries his face into his scarf.

“Um, yes. A lot.”

“Oh,” Seunghoon breathes, feeling it hit him all at once. His head spins and it feels unreal, this insurmountable joy that grabs him and leaves him flying. “Oh. Well. I like you too,” he says finally. He wants desperately to say more, to say I like you too, and the things you do and the things you say and the way you see the world in colours I cannot. These words are hardly enough but the rest are caught in his throat, in a feeling too impossible. He opens his mouth and closes it again when nothing comes out and Jinwoo grins at him with the moon in his eyes as if he understands completely. He leans into him, a warm and comforting weight. 

“I know,” he laughs, looking far too smug. “I think everybody does.”

Seunghoon blanches. “Everybody?”

“Yes. You’re not very subtle,” Jinwoo says. “But that’s okay. I like you like that. I like you very much, Seunghoon.” He pulls his hand out of his pocket, lacing it with Seunghoon's own. It feels electric somehow, and Seunghoon lets the heat consume him entirely, feeling alive. Craning his head up past rows of concrete blocks, he sees the stream between them, trees covered in a blanket of white. The mountain tops gleam back in spectacular clarity.


End file.
